Silver Skater
by addie-cake
Summary: Sailor Moon AU. Nothing special ever happens to Victor Nikiforov. When he meets a mysterious talking dog, everything changes. Makkachin tells him about the legendary Skaters and the Crystal Skates. Victor agrees to become the Silver Skater, a warrior for justice. Along his journey, he learns that he needs to find the rest of the Skaters, and he might find new love along the way.


As sunlight filtered through a ribbed curtain and cascaded in dark shadows across the walls, the steady beat of an alarm loudly sounded. Victor groaned, turning over to absentmindedly check the time. _6:45_. As usual. He frowned, kicking his legs over the side of his bed, stretching slightly, his tired body begrudgingly complying. He grabbed his phone, then made his way to the bathroom to get ready for the day.

Grateful for the chill morning air that woke him slightly, Victor gently ran a comb through his hair, pausing to stare at himself in the mirror. His blue eyes seemed a bit more wrinkled than usual, but his hair lay straighter than it had the day before. Nothing really seemed out of place.

Nothing ever did.

Quickly pulling on a striped long-sleeve and a pair of gray slacks, Victor slipped on his shoes and hurried out the door.

He ran back inside to grab his wallet and keys. Then, he ran out of the door.

Sometimes, Victor didn't know why he was always in such a rush. He got up at the exact same time every single day, got ready for classes, and always, _always_ stopped at the café near his college.

Though, that last part was less of a schedule and more of a ritual. A blessedly perfect ritual that he got to partake in every single day. Turning the corner, Victor made his way to the front of the restaurant, waving through the window. One of the waiters glanced up and waved back, holding up a finger and going behind the counter. Victor waited, his face brightening when another waiter came out and offered a light smile.

Entering the café, Victor strode to his usual table, setting his keys down and lowering himself into a chair. "Good morning, Yuuri!" he chirped. The second waiter, the one with large brown eyes and beautifully smooth skin, placed a menu down in front of the silver-haired young man.

"Morning. What can I get you today?"

"Hmm, I'm not sure, really. I liked the cappuccino you made me last week—"

"I just ordered it in, I didn't actually make it—"

"But your iced macchiato was fantastic, too."

"Again, not mine."

"…I'm just not sure," Victor mumbled, glancing back up at Yuuri, offering a pathetically sweet pout. "Help a guy out, I'm a good tipper."

"You're a great customer," came the flat yet honest reply. "Well, let's see…do you want chocolate or caramel?"

"What color would you say your eyes are today? They seem to change every day."

Yuuri rolled his eyes, not able to hide the pleased smile that inched its way onto his face. "Let's go with caramel."

"I was thinking the same thing! I want something caramel, then! And…it's a little cold today, so I think I might want something warm. No, no—I just want a caramel iced coffee. With cream, please." He flashed a killer smile, but the waiter didn't seem overly phased by Victor's antics. He just nodded, grabbing the menu back.

"Anything to eat?"

Victor shook his head. "No, I think I'm going to save my calories for lunch."

"It's hard being a model, isn't it, Mr. Nikiforov?"

"You tell me, Mr. Katsuki."

This time, Victor did manage to get a flustered reaction from Yuuri. The dark-haired man stuttered slightly, and he glanced away, holding the menu close to his chest. "S-sure. I'll put that in for…you." He smiled once more, though the gesture was a bit more nervous this time. "I'll be right back."

"Take your time, Yuuri! It just means I get to wait for you a bit longer." He winked, but Yuuri had already turned away, quickly making his way back into the kitchen. As he entered the area, the first waiter exited, carrying a tray with three cups of coffee on it.

The young teen offered Victor a large smile, pausing for a moment to catch up. "How're you today?" he asked, then stepped over to the waiting table, expertly depositing the drinks to their respective owners. He turned back to Victor and slid his tray onto the table to give his arms a quick rest. "I really think you're wearing Yuuri down, what do you think?"

"I'm great, thank you. And you think so?" He blinked, mood lifted even farther. "I thought so, too, but I didn't want to make any assumptions. He's a flighty one, you know?"

"I do know that." Phichit laughed lightly, light-heartedly shrugging when Yuuri walked back out with a large glass of coffee.

"Phichit, you didn't have to keep him company, he was fine waiting for me," Yuuri said, his tone light, even when his eyes spoke of the slightest ounces of frustration. It was quite apparent to him that Phichit and Victor liked to try to put out feelers to see how Yuuri felt about many things—his favorite coffee, his favorite color, his favorite type of chocolate, his favorite college student-slash-model (and Victor was sure that it was him). Cleary, he didn't mind too much, or he would have said something to Phichit who would have certainly said something to Victor, but Yuuri, like any normal person, didn't love anyone talking about him, positively or negatively, without his presence.

Phichit smiled sheepishly, taking a few steps back and grabbing his tray. "I know, I know. I was just worried that you were going to take a while, and Victor's one of our best customers…"

"Don't tell him that too much, or he's going to get a big head," Yuuri said, quite innocently. He glanced back at Victor, then placed the iced coffee next to Victor. "But he's not wrong. You sure I can't get you anything else?"

"Yuuri's trying to fatten me up," Victor complained, sharing a teasing look with Phichit as the young man in question began to sputter again, his face shading red. Hiding his grin behind his tray, Phichit retreated into the kitchen; it was only after the door swung shut that the sound of unfettered laughter filtered into the dining area.

Yuuri groaned, shaking his head. "Sorry about him. And for the record, I am _not_ trying to fatten you up. I think it's impossible, honestly."

"So you think I'm pretty?"

"That's not what I said."

"Well, I'm going to have to take it that way, alright?"

With a heaving and exaggerated sigh, Yuuri relented. "Fine. If you want to put words into my mouth, you can think that way." He smiled, the expression far more genuine than before, and fished a straw out of his apron pocket. "Enjoy."

"I always do." Victor took a long, greedy sip of his drink, closing his eyes in pleasure. While not the most bustling of cafés in the morning, Hasetsu Castle really was the young man's favorite restaurant to visit. Once in the morning, and once in the evening. The food was excellent, and the brewed, handcrafted beverages put many other coffee shops in the city to shame. Though Victor wasn't one for extraneous calories or large meals, even he couldn't help but indulge in a turkey melt or a peanut butter shake every now and again. And he never could resist the tempting aroma of dark roast coffee and freshly-baked croissants.

Not only was the food good—Yuuri, the hardworking student that he was, happened to work a short morning shift and a longer evening one practically every day. It made sense, considering that his parents owned the tiny restaurant, but it was a definite perk for Victor to choose the business each and every day.

As he continued to work his way through his coffee, Victor chanced a look out the window. He noticed a small figure, across the street, huddled against a streetlight. Narrowing his eyes to try to see the form better, the light-haired man deduced that it had to be an animal of some sort. A cat, maybe? It would have to be a pretty large one, if it were. Was it a dog? Oh, it was probably a dog. Putting his glass down, Victor searched the restaurant for any way to help the poor thing. It didn't appear to be moving, and he began to worry that it was hurt. "Yuuri, could you come over here?" he asked, trying to be as polite as possible.

The waiter lifted his head, shoving his notepad into his pocket, walking back over to the platinum-haired man's table. "Did you forget what color my eyes were? We agreed on caramel, right?" he smiled.

"They are, you're right," Victor quickly agreed. "No, anyway, I need to ask a favor. You see that thing over there?" He pointed out the window, unable to do anything but watch fondly as the younger man tried to focus on the dog-cat-thing. He eventually nodded, though Victor wasn't quite sure if he was telling the truth. He wasn't sure if Yuuri was far- or near-sighted, but he seemed to be practically blind, whichever way it was. "Anyway, I was wondering if I could get a cup of water and a—maybe a croissant, or something. What can dogs eat?"

"My dog used to eat everything, even the things it shouldn't have, so I don't think my opinion would be very helpful…"

"Then, let's just go with water. That's most important."

Yuuri looked over, unsure. "How do you know it won't have rabies, or something? Victor, maybe you should just—"

"Yuuri, if I see someone in need, I have to help them. Even if it's an animal. May I please have some water?" He leveled the waiter with a completely serious look, and Yuuri almost shrunk back at the gaze. He didn't, just nodded, and he seemed to struggle with some sort of expression—maybe he wanted to congratulate Victor on his selflessness.

Or, he thought the other man was reckless and unwise. Either way, Yuuri looked cute when he was conflicted.

When Yuuri left to grab the water, Victor sighed, eyes still fixed on the poor animal. It still hadn't moved, and so many people just walked past it without bothering a second look at the creature. Even more determined, Victor only gave Yuuri a thankful nod and a handful of bills before downing the rest of his coffee and hurrying outside. "Keep the change!" he called, shutting the door behind him.

Yuuri blinked, unfolding the bills to discreetly count them, then gasped at the generous amount. Well, alright, then.

Looking both ways before crossing the street, Victor jogged over to what was obviously a dog—a poodle, even. The young man knelt down, smiling lightly and holding the cup out to the animal.

It lifted its head, with a certain strength that Victor hadn't expected given its lethargy, its dark eyes looking deeply into Victor's blue ones. Maybe the dog wasn't a stray. He was well-groomed, with a brownish-gray coat that shone under the sun. Victor nodded, putting the water down so that the dog could lap it up by himself.

 _Thank you._

"You're welcome," Victor replied. He didn't think about his response for a few moments, then froze. "…" No, that wasn't possible at all. He laughed nervously, pushing a few platinum strands away from his face. There was no way that—

 _This water is cold._

Gasping, Victor fell onto his backside, stumbling back. "What the—"

The dog began to drink the water, pink tongue darting in and out of the cup. _No, really, it's very good. My compliments to the chef._

Slowly, and very carefully, the young man got to his feet. He tried to remain as calm as possible, despite the fact that his heart was pounding and he felt like screaming for help, or for a dog warden, or maybe for Yuuri to come help him. Victor breathed in a long sigh, unsure of what to do. On the one hand, he wanted didn't want to be terrorized by a talking dog.

On the other hand, this dog was talking.

Against his better judgment, Victor knelt down once again. "You…can talk?" he all but whispered, looking around frantically to see if someone was playing a practical joke on him. When he didn't notice anyone, he hesitantly turned his attention back to the dog. "You're talking to me."

 _Of course I am. And yes, I can._

Nodding, Victor settled back down. "Should we…go somewhere more private?"

 _So sudden…_

"No! I already have a boyfr—well, I have a _someone_ , and you're a dog, so that would just be strange and against the law. Um…how are you…you know—"

 _Talking?_

"Yes."

The dog took another laps of water, then returned to staring at Victor. _Honestly, I'm surprised myself. No one else has been able to understand me. Maybe you're special._

"…special?" Victor shook his head, seriously doubting whatever this freakishly strange talking dog was saying, or thinking, or mentally projecting into Victor's mind. Whatever way it was communicating, it was wrong. There was absolutely nothing special, or sensational, or unique about Victor. He was a model, sure, but that was more of a childhood thing that he just hadn't been able to grow out of. And was he talking to a dog? Yes, but anyone else who would have offered the dog a bit of water might have heard the exact same thing.

Or—or, he was definitely dreaming all this, and the dog wasn't actually talking to him. Realistically, he was hallucinating, or his coffee had had some curdled cream in it, or something.

But two things were certain—Victor wasn't special, and this dog wasn't right. Steeling himself, Victor got back up, not bothering to look back at the dog again. He felt a little bad, leaving a stranded animal by itself in a busy-ish city, but it seemed to be doing just fine on its own.

The day passed relatively easy, despite the rocky start. Interacting with the dog had stolen some of Victor's precious time, and he arrived to his calculus class nearly fifteen minutes late. After receiving a less-than-stern reminder that class began on-the-dot from the professor, Victor simply apologized and sat down next to the young man that he sat next to every single class. Georgi hardly glanced up, but he did slide a sheet of paper filled with formulas and solved equations to Victor. Gratefully, the platinum-haired man took it, reminding himself that he was going to have to make all this extra help up to Georgi one day. Maybe a gift card, or something?

After calculus, Victor had a two-hour block before his literature class began. He began to nurse a bottle of water as he pulled his phone out of his backpack. A fruitless Google search of "talking dogs" revealed only a handful of hoax Youtube videos, or a few parlor tricks in which an owner could train a dog to bark out a humanlike sound.

But there didn't appear to be any seriousness to the possibility that a dog could actually talk. And yet.

The literature class was just as torturous, just as dull, and just as long as the calculus class had been, save for the fact that Victor hadn't been able to miss the first fifteen minutes of it. He was grateful when the professor finally dismissed the class, and Victor was able to head to work. He didn't have any photoshoots to attend today, but he did have a few fittings.

He really wasn't surprised that the fittings seemed to take even longer than they usually did. Every suit pant needed hemmed, and every jacket needed a few pins and quick stitches to take in the garments. But finally, _finally_ he was able to escape the agency building and make his way to Hasetsu Castle. It wasn't too late, only about four o'clock, but Victor felt like taking an early dinner. He had had a very long day.

Opening the door, Victor instantly brightened as soon as he caught sight of Yuuri working behind the counter. The young man was picking a piece of cake out of the display case, putting it on a plate and handing it to a customer. He smiled, thanking the old woman as she stuffed a bill and a few coins into the tip jar. He looked especially sweet this afternoon, and Victor caught his attention before gesturing to his usual table. With a quick thumbs-up from Yuuri, the young model sidled up to the table and sank into the chair.

"What a day, Yuuri," Victor mumbled once the dark-haired man walked over. "That dog was…well, I think it was sick, but I really didn't want to touch it." He thought about telling Yuuri that it had talked to him but thought against it. It wouldn't help Victor's chances of wooing Yuuri if the younger man thought that his potential suitor was insane.

"What happened after that?" Yuuri asked, gingerly setting a menu beside Victor's moping form. "Did it try to bite you?"

"No, nothing like that. It just…it acted weird. And then, I showed up to my math class late, and it was so embarrassing, and I have no clue what goes on in calculus, anyway—"

"No one does."

"That's true. But anyway, then my literature class was terrible, too. We're still stuck reading poetry, and I'm so bad at, you know, analyzing them."

Yuuri smiled sympathetically, letting Victor continue to talk. "And my fittings today were _so_ long. I have to get everything altered, and I don't even like one of the yellow jackets the designer picked for me."

"You'd probably look great in yellow."

"I don't. I truly don't." He sighed, half-heartedly picking up the menu. "You know what, I could go for a large chocolate shake. Your eyes look more like chocolate in this lighting." In spite of his lowered mood, Victor still flashed a flirtatious smile to the exasperated waiter.

Laughing, Yuuri bent down to pick up the menu. "I'll be back in a bit. Anything else? You probably haven't eaten all day."

He wasn't wrong, and Victor just nodded, reaching for the laminated sheet of paper again. "Actually, I think I could go for a roasted chicken sandwich." This time, he handed the menu back to Yuuri. "Don't let me look at that again, you'll probably be able to talk me into dessert, and then you'll have to explain all this to my manager."

"You sure? We have an _excellent_ molten lava cake—"

"You're tempting me, Yuuri. You can't do that to me," Victor whined, and Yuuri laughed, nodding.

"Alright, alright. Be back soon." He waved lightly, hurrying off to place the order. In the evening, Yuuri worked with his older sister and his parents, and Phichit only worked in the mornings, given his age.

The shake was heavenly, and the sandwich was hot enough to practically warm Victor's soul. The young man ate heartily and finished his drink, being sure to leave another large tip for Yuuri at the end of his meal. The young waiter cashed out his order, hand resting against the receipt (and Victor's hand) for a bit longer than necessary. "I know you had a rough day," Yuuri began, tone soft, "but I think that it's really sweet that you wanted to help that dog."

"You think so? Because it felt like I was just setting myself up for a very disappointing day." Victor sighed, but smiled lightly. "Thank you, though. It means more than you know, coming from you."

"And what makes me so special?" Yuuri laughed.

Special? Still slightly fixated on the word, Victor shrugged, pocketing the receipt once Yuuri finally released it. "Everything, I think. I've never met anyone like you, Yuuri."

The dark-haired man glanced the other way, the tips of his ears scarlet. "W-well, I'm glad you think so…"

Lifting a hand in goodbye, Victor left the restaurant and began his walk back home. What _was_ so special about Yuuri? And what wasn't about himself? The first answer seemed so simple—Yuuri was sweet and kind, and he was a beautiful person with soft eyes. He actually put up with all the passes that Victor made on him, and he had a good sense of humor toward Phichit's ribbings. More than that, Yuuri somehow felt familiar to Victor, as if they had known each other for more than a few years.

The second answer, though, was much harder for Victor to explain. He really couldn't think of anything overly special about himself. Maybe he was a nice person, but he wasn't sometimes. And he was whiny and loud and boring. When he was younger, Victor had entertained notions, silly dreams, about being someone spectacular, like a life-saving scientist or a celebrity surgeon or a professional figure skater. But he had settled for modeling, because his mother had gotten headshots of him when he was a baby, and he truly didn't have the motivation to want to do anything else. Maybe Victor was afraid of getting his dreams shot down.

Yuuri didn't seem to be like that, though, even if he was a naturally shy person. He was a hard worker, and he didn't complain about long hours or rude customers. He even told Victor once that he wanted to go to medical school, or maybe even law school. He even thought about becoming a veterinarian. He was attending a different university than Victor was, though he hadn't chosen a field to completely commit to yet. No matter what he chose, though, Victor knew that he was going to be completely successful. That was just the type of person he seemed to be.

Finally finding his apartment complex, Victor huffed, fishing in his pocket for his key. When he felt absolutely nothing except for soft cloth, the young man tried the other pocket, coming up with nothing. He wasn't going to panic yet, but Victor was becoming increasingly frustrated. And a little panicked.

Definitely panicked.

Before he could mount a full freak-out, though, Victor heard the jingle of something metallic a few feet away. Snapping his head up, he whipped around to look for the source of the noise.

The dog from earlier was standing in front of the young man, a keyring hanging out of his mouth. Tail wagging, the animal trotted over, eyes almost seeming to narrow in annoyance at the platinum-haired man's fearful expression. _What, now? Are you still in shock? I gave you a whole day to work this out._

"You can talk! And you stole my keys!"

 _I had to. You wouldn't listen to me otherwise._

Summoning a bit of courage and snatching the keys from the dog's mouth, Victor went to unlock his door. "Listen to what? You are a talking dog, and I am going insane!"

 _You're not. My name is Makkachin, and I think we need each other's help._

"…what?" Victor turned around, the door hanging open before him. "With what? I can buy you some food, if that's what you want."

… _maybe we should go inside to talk._ Without another word, Makkachin walked in front of Victor, stepping inside the apartment.

Making a noise of surprise, the young man followed. "Hey, you can't do that—"

Ignoring him, Makkachin sat on the floor, still watching Victor expectantly. _Now that we're here, I need to see if something works. Tap my paw._ The dog held up said paw, and Victor gaped, stopping only to close his door.

"You want me to…high-five you?"

 _If that's what they're calling it now, yes._ Makkachin inclined his head. Victor took a closer look at the dog's paw, tilting his head. The largest pad on his foot almost looked to be diamond in shape. Still, a simple high-five didn't seem harmful. Obliging, Victor pressed his hand against Makkachin's, quickly pulling it back.

As he did so, some strange sort of light shone from Makkachin's paw. The more the young man pulled away, the more the light did, until it almost resembled a necklace with a thick chain and a large, round stone. Once he was far enough away, however, the light faded, and the necklace fell into Victor's palm.

It wasn't quite a necklace, more of a…

"Is this a medal?" Victor asked, confused. He examined it closely, marveling at the black ribbon with a plate of silver attached to it. "I don't understand, why did you have this? _How_ did you have this?"

Makkachin seemed just as perplexed. The dog hummed lightly, looking down at the medal, then back up at Victor. _It seems I was right._

"Right about what? That you smuggle medals in your fur?"

 _No, that you're one of them._

"One of what?" Victor finally exclaimed, tempted to drop the medal. Yet a reluctant part of him prevented him from doing so. Despite his absolute terror, he was also curious as to why a shining light had emitted out of nowhere, and he certainly wanted to know why Makkachin had given this medal to him.

 _You have to be one of the skaters._

Not understanding, Victor continued to stare at the—no, at _his_ medal. Somehow, it just felt like his, like he was meant to have it all this time.

 _What's your name?_

"…Victor. Victor Nikiforov."

 _Victor. Perhaps there may be something special about you, after all. I need you to repeat something after me. I need to see if this will work._

The young man glanced back up, nodding silently. He couldn't even explain why he was humoring all this insanity; maybe he was bored and simply wanted something to do. Or maybe this all felt right to him. Or, more realistically, he could have been dreaming.

All Victor really knew was that it couldn't hurt to try whatever it was that Makkachin wanted him to. It was just a few words, right?

 _Stay close to me, power-up._

"…huh? Oh, right—um…Stay close to me, power-up?"

A young man stared at the expanse of his large kingdom, letting out a long sigh as he settled into an uneasy silence. He brushed a few strands of long hair away from his face, eyes flicking downward. He hated this, the quiet, but he hated waiting even more than that.

A few steps behind him caught his attention, and the young man turned around, eyes widening and mouth curving upward into a large smile. "I didn't think you'd be here tonight."

"I had to see you, Your Highness."

 **A.N.: So…this was basically the idea that my sister and I had been playing with for a few days now, and I just had to write this out before I forgot everything. We've got a ton of ideas about how this could play out, and it won't be completely in line with the Sailor Moon plot, because then that would be completely predictable. But anyway, I am super happy and excited to answer any questions that anyone might have so far, and I'm really excited about this AU. I hope you guys enjoyed it!**


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